Lately I have been feeling that there is a weight pressing on me, weighing me down. I wake up at night with this sensation, I struggle during daylight hours to keep going. Sometimes I feel as if I can't breathe, as if something were choking me.
Do you know what the problem is? Do you?
It's not anxiety.
The weight I'm feeling comes from the Mother Load. It's my two year-old who is trying desperately to reattach the umbilical cord. Its my 8-year old who cannot seem to move without catapulting himself across furniture whilst screaming in a dinosaur-like way. Its my fourteen year old daughter who, while generally an atypically helpful teenager, has mastered eye-rolling and whining in the hope of getting her way (especially in front of my friends). Its my 11 year old daughter who sees EVERYTHING as a newsworthy crisis. Its like she's the anchor of a news crew and I'm her only audience member. I will be leaving my darling, darling, darling husband out of this list to prove that I can be submissive.
Maybe it is anxiety.
I have excellent coping mechanisms, though. Let me share a few with you, and maybe you can add a few to my ever expanding list.
I find that curling up in fetal position in the kitchen pantry and sucking on a thumb dipped in Nuttella is an excellent stress reliever.
Spontaneous crying is also helpful. After a particularly painful trip to Wal-mart I had a cashier ask me if anything was wrong. "No. Why?" I asked. "Because you are crying," was her answer.
My sweet oldest son offered assurance, "She does that all the time," he said. Then he grabbed a Hershey's bar and added to our items. He's going to make a great husband someday.
When I wake in the night unable to sleep because of the number of bodies in our bed (we're not swingers, we have 4 children and 2 dogs) I go down to our most comfortable couch and watch PX90 infomercials. Is it weird that I sweat just watching those videos?
Car rides can be rather taxing. I find that blasting Queen until I've blocked out all of the voices in the van is not only stimulating but therapeutic, and they learn some excellent air guitar technique along the way.
So, how do you cope with your Mother Load, or Father Load as the case may be?
This is how I write. Except I made myself smile for the picture. Now I have to go change a stinky diaper.
Yes, he is picking his nose.
Do you know what the problem is? Do you?
It's not anxiety.
The weight I'm feeling comes from the Mother Load. It's my two year-old who is trying desperately to reattach the umbilical cord. Its my 8-year old who cannot seem to move without catapulting himself across furniture whilst screaming in a dinosaur-like way. Its my fourteen year old daughter who, while generally an atypically helpful teenager, has mastered eye-rolling and whining in the hope of getting her way (especially in front of my friends). Its my 11 year old daughter who sees EVERYTHING as a newsworthy crisis. Its like she's the anchor of a news crew and I'm her only audience member. I will be leaving my darling, darling, darling husband out of this list to prove that I can be submissive.
Maybe it is anxiety.
I have excellent coping mechanisms, though. Let me share a few with you, and maybe you can add a few to my ever expanding list.
I find that curling up in fetal position in the kitchen pantry and sucking on a thumb dipped in Nuttella is an excellent stress reliever.
Spontaneous crying is also helpful. After a particularly painful trip to Wal-mart I had a cashier ask me if anything was wrong. "No. Why?" I asked. "Because you are crying," was her answer.
My sweet oldest son offered assurance, "She does that all the time," he said. Then he grabbed a Hershey's bar and added to our items. He's going to make a great husband someday.
When I wake in the night unable to sleep because of the number of bodies in our bed (we're not swingers, we have 4 children and 2 dogs) I go down to our most comfortable couch and watch PX90 infomercials. Is it weird that I sweat just watching those videos?
Car rides can be rather taxing. I find that blasting Queen until I've blocked out all of the voices in the van is not only stimulating but therapeutic, and they learn some excellent air guitar technique along the way.
So, how do you cope with your Mother Load, or Father Load as the case may be?
This is how I write. Except I made myself smile for the picture. Now I have to go change a stinky diaper.
Yes, he is picking his nose.
Sharing stories comes as naturally to me as breathing.I write here so I can do that. Grab a cup of something and stay a while.
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Love you, and soon he will be picking his nose in private. My so smart daughter has conquered the eye rolling with photogray lenses in the 8 year olds eye glasses, and prayers for sunshine. A stime goes by and the 20 year old gets their 4th tattoo you will try bribery..."How bout a Hershey Bar".
ReplyDeletehahaha im not 100% sure there aren't neighborhood animal that end up in our bed at night, we need to put an electrical fence around our bed at night just to protect us LOL
ReplyDeleteOh, you have NO idea how much I relate! Every now and then I say to Cory, "I'm not depressed. (long pause) Or AM I??? Is that what this is?"
ReplyDeleteAlas, as suspected, it is the Mother Load. Take heart! You are not alone. :)